


take my hand, take a breath

by lostin_space



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Miluca, Mild Gore, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 14:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21738910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostin_space/pseuds/lostin_space
Summary: “Alex, Michael, he‒” Maria gasped a breath and sobbed harder and Alex very quickly bolted towards his car. In the background, he could hear muffled shouting. “He won’t let anyone go near him! Alex! What do I do?!”“What happened?” Alex repeated firmly, but quickly added, “Where are you? I’m coming.”
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 26
Kudos: 262





	take my hand, take a breath

**Author's Note:**

> yes that's a high school musical lyric as my title, no i have no regrets
> 
> i'm not totally sure i portrayed this as well as i wanted, but here it be. if you think i left out any tags, definitely let me know
> 
> featuring teenage michael who just really wants a fucking hug

Alex stared down at the phone for longer than he should’ve.

Maria hadn’t called him since she decidedly chose Michael. They hadn’t said out loud that they were no longer friends, they just hadn’t tried. While he managed to remain somewhat civil with Michael, Maria had all but dropped off the face of his Earth. Seeing her call couldn’t mean anything good.

“Hello?” he said hesitantly into the speaker. All he heard was sobbing; all he could do was blink.

“Alex! Al‒Oh my god!” Maria screamed or cried or some combination of the two. Instincts took over at that point and he sat up straight, looking for his keys.

“Maria? What’s going on? Where are you?” he asked, snatching his keys from where Buffy had dragged them under the coffee table. She thought she was clever when she did things like that, trying to force him to relax.

“Alex, Michael, he‒” Maria gasped a breath and sobbed harder and Alex very quickly bolted towards his car. In the background, he could hear muffled shouting. “He won’t let anyone go near him! Alex! What do I do?!”

“What happened?” Alex repeated firmly, but quickly added, “Where are you? I’m coming.”

“Max’s!” she screamed, “Hurry!”

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

Alex sped his way to Max’s house, trying not to think of what could be happening. It was something bad enough that Maria was freaking out, someone was screaming, and Michael wouldn’t let anyone go near him. Something happened to Michael and now he won’t let anyone go near him. What could that mean? What could he have done? What could they have done to him?

He skidded up to Max’s house at the same time Maria and Liz ran out, still teary-eyed though it seemed like Maria was able to calm down just a bit from what she was on the phone. However, it didn’t take long to see that they were clearly having a fun little double date. Maria was in a shamelessly adorable plaid crop top that was tied in the front along with short high waisted shorts and Liz was in a floral little sundress. It would’ve been really, really cute had they not also had blood on them.

“What’s going on?” he asked, dread building higher and higher in his stomach.

“Michael, he… he…” Maria trailed off, shaking her head before Liz took over.

“He and Max were working on building a cabinet and we were drinking and it was stupid,” Liz sighed, shaking her head, “But Michael was fine, laughing one minute while hammering in nails with Max and then he suddenly just got all quiet and I really didn’t even notice, but then he just… didn’t hit the nail.”

“No, you didn’t see his face,” Maria said, crying again, “It was like he did it on purpose.”

Alex felt ill, vivid images of his father mutilating Michael’s hand flooding his mind. However, now they were tainted with images of Michael doing it himself. He didn’t need further explanation to know the look on Michael’s face. He’d seen it before, the endless blankness of deciding something was wrong with your own body and needing to fix it immediately.

Except “fixing it” really meant destroying it.

“Why did you call me?” Alex said slowly, trying to keep his mind from spinning too fast, “I can’t do anything.” He didn’t say that he probably could’ve deduced that before driving all the way here. Fuck, all he heard was that something bad was happening with Michael and he was there in less than 20 minutes. He wasn’t subtle.

“He won’t let Max heal him,” Liz said, holding Maria as she dissolved into crying even harder, “He locked himself in the bathroom once he realized what happened.”

“He didn’t even scream,” Maria added.

“Why am I here?” Alex said, firmer this time. Michael was his ex. This wasn’t his job. This wasn’t his responsibility.

“Max said you would know what to do,” Liz responded. Alex’s eyebrows furrowed and he wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted to forget everything he’d just been told. He didn’t want to believe Michael was capable of imitating the wrath of Jesse Manes and he didn’t want to see the proof.

This was wrong. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. Michael was supposed to be happy. That’s why he was with Maria. Mutilating yourself wasn’t happy. This was wrong.

“No, this is wrong,” Alex said out loud, shaking his head, “He’s happy.”

“Alex…” 

“No!” Alex yelled, “I don’t know what you want me to do, but I can’t help! I can’t fix this! I-I…” 

_ I caused this. _

“Alex,” Max’s voice broke through to him, making him refocus if only for a moment, “Michael needs you.”

“No,” Alex said, shaking his head. What could he do? Reenact the scene a little better? Scream again? Cry again? Run away again?

“Alex, please. If you can just get him to come out of the bathroom, I can fix it,” Max said. There was sincerity in his voice and it was almost endearing how stupid he was being. Fixing him physically meant nothing if his mind wasn’t healed. 

Why wasn’t he healed?

_ ”Alex,” Michael gasped. Tears were running down his red cheeks and he couldn’t breathe and he couldn’t stand and his hand was fucked, but he still looked so honest. “Alex, I’m okay. I’m okay, it’s okay. Don’t worry.” _

_ “Don’t worry?!” Alex screamed, staring at what his father had just done. God, he did that. This was his fault. He did that. _

_ “Alex, I’m okay, I promise. Come here,” Michael said, stepping forward. Alex took a step back. He didn’t want to touch him. He didn’t want to make it worse. _

_ “N-no,” Alex fumbled out. He couldn’t even look at Michael’s hand. And by that he meant he couldn’t  _ stop _ looking. His eyes were melded onto it permanently. The way it bled, the way it pulsed, the way skin and muscle and bone were all too visible and confusing to see what should go where anymore. How did all of that fit inside what his hand used to be? _

_ “It’s okay, baby, c’mere,” Michael said softly, like he was the one that was comforting Alex. And, well, maybe he was. _

_ “No,” Alex said again, shaking his head. He stumbled back and his head hit the wall. It made him realize that the back of his head was sore. _

_ “Alex,” Michael said a little more desperation on his face, a brand new wave of tears springing to his eyes, “Alex, please.” _

_ Alex didn’t know what he wanted. He shook his head. _

_ History repeats itself if you let it. _

“Alex‒”

“Move.”

It wasn’t hard to find which bathroom Michael Guerin had locked himself inside‒there was a trail of blood leading to it. Alex closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was going to be fine. He wasn’t 17. His father hadn’t done this. This wasn’t Michael. Michael who wasn’t healed and Michael who needed him.

“Guerin,” Alex said firmly as he knocked once against the door. He stared at the blood on the wood floor. For a moment, it blurred. For a moment, it was blood on the floor of the shed. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

“Go away,” Michael said. Alex sucked a deep breath instead.

“Open up.” 

It took a minute, but the door opened.

_ Fuck, fuck, fuck. _

_ “Alex, please,” Michael begged, whining low in his throat before a sob cracked through his voice, “Alex, come here, please.” _

_ “Why?” Alex asked. He didn’t mean to sound so suspicious, but it did. Michael’s head bowed, his chin hitting his chest. Alex watched as he cried harder and clutched his hand to his chest. He was bleeding. He was hurting.  _

_ Alex was waiting for his father to come back.  _

_ “You need to go,” Alex said. When Michael lifted his head, he looked more hurt than he had when the hammer hit him. _

_ “But‒” _

_ “My dad will come back and you can’t be here with he does.” _

Alex was very thankful for therapy. It helped more than a little when he saw Michael. He didn’t feel that instinct to run away or to push him away. Rather, he pushed inside the door and pushed his feelings down. Those could be saved for later.

Michael was pale and his eyes were tired while he clutched a blood-soaked towel around his hand. Alex gulped and stared at him for just a second before he stepped closer. The door closed behind him. He grabbed Michael’s hand, adding a little bit of pressure. Michael jolted at what Alex could only assume was a rush of pain, but didn’t pull away. 

“It’s not gonna look the same, you know,” Alex said. Michael’s head snapped up. “You hit it from a different angle. It’s not gonna mimic what it was before, you know that, right?”

Michael gulped and then slowly sucked in a breath as Alex applied more pressure. That was the only way the bleeding would stop. That was the only way this could go. Alex shook away the panic that clawed at him. It had no place here.

“I just kept looking at it,” Michael whispered, “And it wasn’t my hand. It still hurt and it wasn't my hand.”

“I know.”

“It was wrong, Alex. It wasn’t right. I had to fix it,” Michael told him. Alex swallowed hard and nodded. 

He’d heard it before. Heard it from soldiers who had lost their whole team and couldn’t look at themselves alive. Heard it from a guy in rehab who cut off his own foot because it shouldn’t have been there. Hell, heard it from people who had plastic surgery because they didn’t recognize their own noses.

“It’s okay,” Alex said even though it wasn’t. This wasn’t normal, but there wasn’t anything he could do. This was just how it had to be for right now. “I’ve got you.”

_ ”I’ve got you! I can protect you!” Michael screamed, sobbed. God, he was in so much pain. “Alex, please, don’t make me go.” _

_ Alex didn’t say anything. He pressed himself further into the wall and closed his eyes and tried to wish this night away. He would’ve given everything good back if it meant the bad never happened. At least then the world would make sense. _

_ “I’m okay! Alex, please! Just...”  _

_ “Leave, Guerin!” _

_ ”If I leave, will I ever see you again?” _

_ Alex barely opened his eyes. He got one last glimpse of the boy who he already felt like he loved. He knew it was stupid. He knew he was a teenager and it wasn’t real. But, fuck, he felt like he loved him. But he was ruined and it was Alex’s fault. _

_ They weren’t meant for this. _

_ “I don’t know. Just leave.” _

“C’mere,” Alex whispered, grabbing the back of Michael’s neck with his free hand so they could meet in the middle. Michael breathed a sigh of relief, rolling his forehead off Alex’s to land against his shoulder.

“I feel it now,” Michael whispered. 

“Okay, I’ve got you,” Alex promised. He held Michael close, his hand pinned between them, and slowly eased them down to the floor.

Alex wondered what his teenage self would say if he went back and told him he grew up enough to take care of him. It felt better than ignoring it. It felt better than the decade of dread and guilt. Stupidly, selfishly, he let this make up for what he couldn’t do as a kid.

An hour passed and the bleeding had long since stopped when Alex slowly unwrapped the towel. Michael buried his face in his neck, breathing erratically. It contrasted starkly in Alex’s brain to the gore that came from looking down at what Michael had done.

“Oh, Michael,” he sighed, shaking his head as he very gently held the mutilated limb. It did look different, but it looked more like Michael’s hand than it had whenever Max had healed it. It was badly broken, fleshy muscle on display along with a crooked pinky. 

It was so horrifically morbid that Alex almost smiled.

“For years, I told myself it was a reminder of how cruel human beings could be,” Michael admitted, his voice shallow and tired, “But then somewhere along the way it just became apart of me. I didn’t like it when it was all fixed. It still hurt, but with nothing to show for it. That’s not who I am anymore. I don’t want to be that person. That person was naive and that person didn’t know they were allowed nice things.”

“You shouldn’t have hurt yourself, Guerin,” Alex whispered, “I know you feel‒”

“I shouldn’t have hurt myself,” Michael agreed. Alex’s words got lost. “But the opportunity struck.”

Alex shook his head before leaning it against Michael’s. With his good leg, he opened the cabinets and got a fresh towel. He wrapped Michael’s hand up better and made a mental note to get an ace bandage or something to do it correctly.

“You need therapy,” Alex sighed. Michael laughed, really laughed. It caught Alex so off guard that he smiled. It made it sound like he was joking when he said, “I’m serious. Body mutilation is a very serious thing.”

It took a few seconds, but Michael’s laughter died down. “I know. I’m sorry. It was just wrong the way it was.”

“Let’s make a deal. You go to therapy to make sure this never, ever happens again, and I’ll make sure Max never heals you without your permission,” Alex said. Michael nodded.

“Okay, that sounds fair,” Michael whispered, nuzzling up closer. Alex closed his eyes and just allowed himself this moment with him. He hadn’t realized how much he missed him. Actually, that was a lie. He had missed him terribly and it was constantly at the forefront of his mind. “Thank you, by the way. For coming. You’re the only one I wanted.”

“Of course. I love you, I’ll always be right here.” Alex said. He didn’t say that they would have a lot of talking about uncomfortable things when they left the bathroom. He didn’t say that Michael still had a girlfriend. He didn’t ask what this meant for them. None of that was for right now. 

Right now was making sure he wasn’t alone. 

Michael let out a sigh of relief. They weren’t alone. They had each other. They were meant for this.

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> also on my tumblr: spaceskam


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